


lie with your bones forever

by byronicmaiden



Category: Spider-Man (Movies - Raimi), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Blood and Gore, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Character Study, Corpses, Daddy Issues, Death, Electra Complex, Gen, Genderswap, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Incestual Feelings, but they’re on harriet’s part, female Harry Osborn - Freeform, genderbent, i wrote this a long time ago for a rp account okay, no actual necrophilia don’t worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:53:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25236481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byronicmaiden/pseuds/byronicmaiden
Summary: Harriet finds her father’s body.
Relationships: Harry Osborn & Norman Osborn
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	lie with your bones forever

The air is thick with it, the stench of Death. It’s impossible, she knows, for him to be decomposing already, but she knows she can smell the sourness of rot as she bends down, perched on the marble floor, looking at her father. How peaceful he looks, how utterly harmless, but she keeps her distance, staring at him like he may wake up, spring to life and lunge at her, wrapping a bony hand around her throat and thrusting her against the ground, slamming her head against the shiny tile. She crawls towards him and examines his skin, wet with sweat, scraped and bloody. She reaches forward, her fingers just barely stroking the wound blossoming from his midsection, as if he’d been impaled brutally on a stake. Like a witch.

She could see dark red seeping from the waistband of his pants, all the way up to his stomach. She swallowed hard and began to pull away the layers of green armor. His mask had already been discarded, flung across the room and skidded to a slow halt over the floor, surely to leave a scrape, and she thought, Dad will be so mad at me for that. But Dad won’t be mad. He won’t be mad about much of anything anymore.

Finally, he lay fully nude on the ground, and she felt as though she may vomit at the grotesque sight of mutilated flesh. His wound appeared like a blooming flower, his skin sliced into curving petals that surrounded the deepest, reddest spot. His genitalia seemed to be the worst of it, where the center of the weapon had penetrated. Twisted, mangled into something filthy and unrecognizable. _Contrapasso._ The idea that when a soul is sent to Hell, their punishment would mirror whatever sin they committed in life. She thought of Lorena Bobbitt chopping off her abusive husbands penis. How fitting a punishment for someone who inflicted such damage with that appendage. She knew her father was a cruel man...she knew he had many enemies...but, still, who could hate him so much they would do something like this? What could he possibly have done to them?

A tear slid down her cheek and splashed upon her fathers chest. She wasn’t strong enough to move him, her limbs pale, weak, drug-addled, so he would have to stay upon the floor. She leaned down, placing her head upon his chest, a childish part of her hoping to hear a heartbeat. She heard nothing but her own sobs. She wrapped her arms around him, felt his blood soak into her blouse and skirt. On top of him she lay, pretending as if he was cradling her in his arms, something he’d never once done, not even as a child. He so rarely touched her, and that simply made her wish to touch him more. She was a child who’d been given so many things, except for everything she really needed. She grew up cold and untouchable, like a statue in a museum, a doll in a glass case, the prettiest, perfectest little princess locked up in a tower only he could enter, and he never did. Her fathers little doll, all dressed up just like him, learning to think like him, talk like him, be like him, and even that was not good enough, because when he looked at her, he saw a little boy from so many years ago, tormented by the shadows with teeth and the spirits cascading through the dark corridors of an abandoned house. She had spent so long attempting to be a perfect replica of her father, and that was, perhaps, the worst thing she could do.

She holds him so tightly her nails break his skin, dead blood dripping down around her closed fist, still a bright cherry red. She shut her eyes and pressed herself to her fathers wound, as if she could bury herself inside him. Never would she finally prove herself to him, never would he finally realize how cruel he’d been and apologize. Never would he see her grow up, or give her away at her wedding, or meet her children. But he would never do those things anyways, something whispers. It is a new voice, sharp and biting with many teeth. It is his voice, and it is coming from inside her head.

Her heart is thick with it, the stench of Death.

**Author's Note:**

> i absolutely forgot i even wrote this but i still kinda like this??? i wrote it back when i was super obsessed with harriet. i don’t know what universe this is supposed to be set it, i guess an alternate version of the raimi movies??? who knows


End file.
